Spilt Milk
by HecateA
Summary: Not that Reyna was much of a crier in the first place, but Jason does tend to rub off on you. Oneshot.


**So this started out as a story to fill someone's request for Jeyna fluff. Then it became the opposite of fluff, but I decided to publish it anyways. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters portrayed in the story.**

* * *

**Spilt Milk**

"Oh, Reyna…" Hylla said gently. Her big sister knelt in front of her and tilted her chin up.

"These things happen," she explained. "Sometimes you drop things and they break. It's alright."

"But Daddy's medal case…"

"Is just a case," Hylla said trying to smile a bit. She couldn't mean that. It was the only thing on the Island that was even a bit about Daddy. "Did you step on any glass?"

Reyna shook her head.

"Well then that's good enough for me," Hylla said. "There's no use crying over spilt milk, Rey."

"That's not what I dropped," Reyna said.

"Well then it's no use crying over a smashed glass box, how's that?"

* * *

Reyna hissed as Jason poured nectar down her back.

"Sorry, sorry, very sorry," he said. She clutched her hoody to herself and bit down on the sleeve. _Ouch. _The burn hurt so much… that skin must be raw and pink and bare. They were on a _quest. _How was she supposed to make sure she didn't become infected and useless? One way or another, she'd slow everyone down.

"That was a stupid way to get hurt," she said bitterly.

"No use crying over spilt milk," Jason said. "Just hold still and let me do my best to patch it up."

* * *

Jason sat down on her roof, right next to her.

"Deep thoughts?" He asked looking at the stars like she was.

"I suppose," Reyna said.

"Care to share?"

"It's really lonely in the villa."

"I agree," Jason said.

"I mean, there are no legionnaires, no fauns anywhere near, no _lares… _It's eerie a bit."

"Rooftops at night are not, of course."

"Oh, shush," Reyna said. She watched the stars. One blinked, so she supposed that she was watching a few satellites as well. "I can't believe that we're praetors."

"I know," Jason said. "It's pretty wild."

Reyna ran her hand through her hair. "I didn't think that I'd have it in me. Ever."

"Contrary to everyone else," Jason said. She swatted his arm.

"I keep wondering… If I would have known about all these things I can do, these powers, these weapons, these moves, these good calls…" Reyna said. "Would I have been able to change everything?"

"What do you mean everything?" Jason asked shifting.

"Things that happened onboard the pirate ship, when the Island was sieged. Could I have saved my sister? Could I have saved myself? What about everyone else living there"

"Reyna, it doesn't matter," Jason said. "It… Okay, I suppose it does matter since that's the one event that changed your entire life and all... But _ifs _and _maybes… _Trust me. Don't go there. It's dark and unpleasant, like a roller coaster in a sewer. There's no use thinking about it, it's already happened."

"I suppose," Reyna said. "I'm not trying to find a use. I just wonder sometimes- have you ever thought about how phenomenal it is that if you took out a single thing that made you who you are, you would completely crumble and be a different person? Think about it, it's scary to have that much power."

"The past is the past," Jason shrugged. "Lupa told me that once- when I asked who my mom was. Some things don't matter, and other things we need to realise don't matter anymore."

"Mattering isn't my problem," Reyna said. "Curiosity is."

* * *

"Did someone develop substantial pockets underneath her eyes therefore signalling that to make it to the weekend in one piece, extensively sugary caffeinated products were needed?"

"That was very eloquent for someone who's up at 12:15," Reyna said looking up from her paperwork and blinking to try and reawaken her eyes.

"I had to go to New Rome and back for this coffee," Jason replied. "Do you want it, or do you want it?"

"I'd hate for you to have gone on a coffee run for nothing, Errand Boy." Reyna said.

* * *

"I changed something," Jason said as they walked to the _principia. _

"Did you now?"

"Mmm-hmm," Jason said. "The whole ticket system for when legionnaires want one of us to do something?"

Reyna groaned. She hated that system- what was she, a waitress? "I'm listening. Please tell me you didn't burn it? We'd get in trouble for that."

"Not at all- I converted it, which I maybe should have asked your opinion about, I'm sorry. It's a box now. A box near the door. Whenever we have an open time frame, we grab a ticket and do whatever we have to do. That way Octavian can't pull another week-long _'let's exhaust Reyna because she-called my cohort out on some foul play'_ campaign."

"Now _that's _a change for the better," Reyna said feeling the weight of the world getting plopped off of her shoulders.

* * *

Reyna emptied out the box on the table. Octavian wasn't leading a campaign with these requests; it was a _revolution._

She looked at the clock; half an hour past midnight. Lord, she was going to need more coffee.

_As if I have the time to get up from this chair, much less walk down to the city and deal with Terminus' late-night policies… _

She sighed and just forced herself to do what she did other nights. Stay awake out of pure focus. Also keep her thoughts in check _immensely, _lest they start wandering. Reyna didn't often wander, but her thoughts had stopped the grass from growing after redirecting themselves towards one particular subject so much. _Jason. _

Where was he at this point? Kidnapped by the harpies or the Greeks or some other filth like the rumours said? No. A deserter? Much less so. Absorbed in some secret work for the fort? Impossible: he'd have left her a note or a clue or a crypt. _Something. _She was… she was his best friend and he was hers. They were basically siblings- that was how Lupa had treated them and told them to treat each other. That was how they treated each other. If he could have done anything to give anyone any information… she liked to think that maybe she would have been important enough to know. She, who was shouldering an entire fort –no, an entire _legacy- _on her tired, decaffeinated shoulders… She who'd risked losing her rank in the fort numerous times to back him up against corrupted senates of the past.

_Jason's gone, _she kept telling herself. _One way or another. He's gone and if he's going to come back, it's not going to be on your terms. He's spilt milk, and you have no use crying about it._

She'd always thought of Jason as slightly brainwashed for always believing that, for never wondering about alternatives and the delicate skein that was fate. Now she understood why he'd done it. It was a way of coping.


End file.
